Ministrations
by Rosage
Summary: Massages may not be as simple as expected, but Guinevere is determined to repay Miledy properly.


There were many situations in which Miledy would feel hurt if Guinevere didn't come to her. Any time Guinevere was in danger, for one, though Miledy hoped Guinevere considered her worthy of confidence even if her safety was not at stake. When such circumstances arose, she could think of little she wouldn't do for her princess—nothing, when she was being honest, despite the caution their positions necessitated. However, there were some things she never imagined her princess would ask.

For her to take off her clothes and lie down was one of them.

Miledy tried not to drop the helmet she'd been polishing. She swiveled her head around to make sure they were alone before looking back at Guinevere's flushed face. "I…I beg your pardon?"

"My intention was to massage you," Guinevere said. Her hands, folded tightly in front of her, fidgeted. It was the only break in her composure.

"Massage? What for?"

"You've seemed tense lately. Perhaps it's presumptuous of me, but I thought…"

Miledy exhaled. "No. I appreciate the consideration, your highness, but I am the one serving you. Besides, if people saw you giving me special treatment, it could cause—"

Guinevere held up a hand to silence her. "Nobody will see us. Ellen will make certain of it. Please…if it's not a bother to you…allow me to repay you for your service."

Had Miledy seen only the tiara atop Guinevere's head, she would have refused, but as always, she couldn't look away from the earnest eyes below it. "Though my service requires no repayment, I will submit to this," she said.

For a fleeting moment, she wished they could drop the formalities and come to an agreement with little more than a nod. But such wishes were pointless, and worse, could distract her from the person in front of her.

She set her helmet down and fingered the edges of the bench. The room had no windows and only one door, and if Ellen was standing guard, they had nothing to worry about. Those logistics settled, she remembered the other one with a slight rush of heat.

"Ah, Princess, the clothes aren't—er, the undressing isn't necessary."

The flush returned to Guinevere's cheeks. "Oh."

For the sake of Guinevere's dignity, Miledy hurriedly lied down. The bench wasn't the most comfortable spot, but for someone used to camping on cold ground, it made no difference. Miledy wouldn't have noticed at all were it not for the agonizingly long moment of anticipation while she waited for Guinevere to begin.

_It's a good thing Ellen is Guinevere's lady-in-waiting,_ she thought, before the feeling of Guinevere's hands against her drove all other thoughts from her mind.

Guinevere's fingers felt like lace dabbing her back. The effect was the opposite of intended. The more Guinevere caressed her, the tenser Miledy felt.

It wasn't for lack of effort on Guinevere's part, nor was it for lack of strength. This butterfly's wings were made of steel, as Miledy knew all too well. Still, the fact remained that her princess didn't know what it took to undo the wear on a soldier's muscles—nor, as Miledy was stiflingly aware, was she used to touching another's body.

It didn't take long for Guinevere to cease her ministrations. She sighed. "I am not doing very well, am I?"

Miledy's arm had gone numb underneath her, but she didn't shift for fear of disturbing Guinevere's hands. "You are simply unused to performing this kind of task."

"Are you experienced with this?" Guinevere asked.

Miledy cleared her throat. "Soldiers often rub each other's shoulders after training," she said.

"I see." Guinevere's finger tapped against Miledy's back. "Then you can tell me how to do it?"

Miledy was grateful she hadn't said _show. _"It's…hard to put into words, but the important thing is to apply pressure."

"I thought I was."

Miledy bit her tongue. She couldn't well correct her princess in the same way she would a recruit. "Forgive the suggestion, but…perhaps it takes a fellow soldier to know how much force to apply."

"You're saying…I'm too weak to do it."

"I did not mean to sound discouraging."

Guinevere didn't answer. Heat pooled under her fingertips where they rested on Miledy's back. She wished Guinevere's face was within view so she could at least guess her princess's thoughts. They felt far away enough when she could see her.

She took a deep breath. They were alone; it would not hurt to ask. "Pardon me, your highness, but what made you insistent upon this?"

Guinevere's fingers lifted away, making Miledy regret speaking. "I…I thought I told you. You seemed tense, and I…"

"It's not that I don't appreciate it," Miledy said. "It just seemed sudden…and you seem distressed."

Guinevere didn't speak for several moments. Miledy was considering getting up when Guinevere's fingers touched her shoulder. "I…I have failed at so many things," Guinevere said. "My people cannot trust me to serve them. So I thought…if I could at least do one thing for you, who has supported me despite everything…"

Pain bloomed in Miledy's chest. She felt foolish, touched, and foolish again in turns as the urge gripped her to comfort Guinevere. She struggled to push her feelings aside and find words that could describe the strength to act despite risk, to defy duty, to tarnish one's name if it was for the good of others.

She found none. She could only put as much feeling as she could muster into the words, "It's _because _of everything, your highness."

Guinevere's palm went flat against Miledy's back. The slight movement expressed so much that Miledy felt compelled to respond.

"I…" _I am proud of you_, she couldn't quite say. She swallowed. "I am proud to be in your service."

Guinevere's voice was quiet. "Truly?"

"Yes."

Guinevere let out a long breath. "Miledy."

Miledy's heart pounded as she lay there, her mind numb even as it swirled with thoughts. After a moment she didn't want to break, she moved to prop herself up. A press against her back forced her down.

Miledy breathed sharply. _So she does have it in her, _she thought.

"Princess?"

"I apologize, but as long as I've already imposed on you, I'd like to do this properly."

Miledy closed her eyes. "Very well."

Guinevere resumed massaging. She was clearly making an effort to rub harder this time, though it still didn't relieve Miledy's muscles. She didn't mind; the sensations dancing along the surface of her skin consumed her attention, sharpening her awareness at the same time they slowed her thoughts. She commanded the chills running down her body to cease, but of course they did not, and when she finally stopped trying to ignore them, she found that they dissolved on their own to be replaced by a soft warmth.

That would have been enough for her, but Guinevere questioned her persistently—was it in the right spot, was it firm enough, was it _right_? Miledy fought down an ache and gave all the advice she could, telling Guinevere to dig her elbow in, to press her weight on it, to move left. The pressure felt good until Guinevere struck bone. She lifted when Miledy winced.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine."

"I didn't hurt you?"

"It's nothing compared to the blows I've received in battle."

"I suppose not." A finger stroked the base of Miledy's neck, sending a shiver down her spine. "Blows taken for my sake…"

Miledy tried to twist her neck up. She halted when her cheek brushed against a sheet of hair. The scent of a mountain flower crushed behind Guinevere's ear overwhelmed her. "Princess?"

"Pay me no mind." The hair retreated as the hands moved hesitantly back in place. "Have I been helpful to you at all?"

Miledy let out the breath she'd been holding. "Yes."

"In that case, I'll continue."

They spoke no more. Guinevere communicated with rubs, jiggles of her elbow, and strokes of her palm; Miledy replied with grunts, sighs, and rolling shoulders.

When Guinevere lifted abruptly, Miledy understood she was to rise. She was met with the sight of Guinevere's hair clinging to flushed cheeks. Clearing her throat, Miledy tried to summon words, but her voice failed as she watched the princess smooth her wrinkled dress. Catching her eye, Guinevere parted her lips before closing them in favor of gracing Miledy with a nod and a smile that relieved more tension than a hundred massages ever could.


End file.
